


But I Think That You’re Wild

by laudatenium



Series: I'm Burnin' (For You) [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wildfire, Developing Relationship, Fluff, IT'S SO FLUFFY, Insecure Tony, M/M, Moving In Together, flufff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 13:16:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2733974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laudatenium/pseuds/laudatenium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been the best four months of his life.</p><p>And Tony doesn't want it to end.</p><p>But they say all good things must.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But I Think That You’re Wild

**Author's Note:**

> Title from “You Might Think” by the Cars.
> 
> If you were a little confused about the timeline (I know I was), the wildfire that caught Tony occurred in mid-July, they had sex by the end of August, Tony did the interview in mid-September, and this occurs in mid-November.
> 
> Sorry I haven’t updated in a little while. I’ve had a lot due this week, and I accidentally deleted 2000 words from this, and had to start over from the beginning.

“Tony, you need to be packing.”

 

“No.”

 

“Tony-“

 

“No.”

 

“Tony.”

 

Tony looked up from his blanket burrito, into Steve’s concerned eyes.  “I don’t _waaaa-nnnna!”_ With that, he threw up his arms and flailed a bit, before burying his face in his knees.

 

He heard Steve set the box he was carrying down by the end of the couch, and a moment later Tony felt a large hand stroke through his hair.  “Tony, why don’t you want to pack?”  Steve asked very gently.

 

Because as soon as he was packed, Happy would be there to cart him away.  Back to Malibu, back to Pepper and Stark Industries, back to society parties and putting on his armor. 

 

Away from the mountains.  Away from his big workshop with the windows that looked out over the burned valley.  Away from the smell of char finally being washed away by rain.  Away from the place where he had just spent the best four months of his life.

 

Away from Steve.

 

He burrowed deeper in his blanket and mumbled, “Donwanleaveya.”

 

“What?  Com’ on, Tony.  Happy’s gonna be here on Friday, and I don’t think you want to spend your last night here throwing shit in boxes.”

 

Tony peaked out from his cocoon.  “Did you have plans for me?” he grinned suggestively.

 

Steve sat back on his haunches and rubbed the side of his neck as he blushed.  “Don’t I usually have plans for you?”

 

“Uuu-uun, _no_ , you do _not_ get to blush and then make suggestive comments, Steve, who does that?” Tony squawked as he leapt from the couch, periodic table sock-clad feet tangling in his blanket that illustrated the circuitry of a heater (there were layers to the humor, see?).  Steve muffled a little grunt-cough in his fist, which meant he was trying not to laugh.  Tony kicked the blanket back on the couch and pointed an accusing finger at him.  “Not a word.”

 

Steve just grinned up at him, carefree and happy, and Tony felt his heart might break with the impending breakup looming over them.

 

It was coming, same as the blaze of impending fire that had pushed them together.

 

But Steve kept acting like everything was _fine._   He still sketched Tony in whatever position he happened to be in, he still demanded a kiss as he held the mug of Colombian dark roast over Tony’s head, he still whispered “I love you,” as they lay curled together, naked and sweaty and almost asleep, like it was some sort of prayer.

 

Whenever Pepper would call and talk about the plans to re-insert Tony in society, all the parties and galas he would have to attend to make up for lost time, how he would have to take up a patronage with the American Burn Association, Steve would just hold him, stroking his hair and gently caressing the healed burns.

 

And Tony would miss it, and everything else he had gotten used to in Steve’s presence.  Steve’s irritatingly regular sleep schedule when he wasn’t firefighting, Steve’s insistence that Tony eat more than a slice of week-old pizza for dinner, Steve’s insistence of going slow no matter how much Tony moaned “ _Faster._ ”  The way Steve’s weird firefighter friends just invited themselves over and Clint would complain that the living room smelt like sex while eating _Tony’s_ Doritos and Natasha threatening to stab everyone who mildly annoyed her.  He would miss Rhodey coming over and Steve’s friends Sam and Bucky stealing _Tony’s_ best friend as the exploited that weird bond all military guys had as they drank _Tony’s_ beer and traded war stories, and he would cuddle close to Steve and Steve would try and kiss the pout away, to a chorus of “aaawww” and “ewww” from the mixed group of apparent third graders.  He would miss going for picnics in the mountains, napping against the window of Steve’s pickup as they drove through the rain, Steve dropping everything when his radio squawked.  Steve getting him out of bed for church at _nine o’clock_ on a Sunday morning to go to a church that wanted to see them _burn in hell_ for being sodomites, and whenever Tony would mention it, Steve would just say “That’s what the people who run the church say, but the congregation _is_ the church, and most of them don’t care what we do to make ourselves happy,” and despite his protests every week he would still go, and Steve would take him out for pancakes afterwards.  He would miss Steve sketching and painting, he would miss Steve coming home smelling of ash, he would miss Steve holding him close at night and the two of them staring out at the mountains covered in swathes of charred forest and the hum of contentment Steve would give as they fell asleep.

 

He would miss Steve.

 

“I can hear you thinking.  What’s wrong?”

 

Tony felt his voice go small.  “I have to go back to Malibu.  And you’re moving back in with your friends.  And we’re gonna break up.  And I’ll miss you.”

 

He expected Steve to sigh and square his shoulders, say very nicely that, while it had been fun, they both needed to get back to their lives.  Then walk grandly out, while Tony would choke back tears as he watched the best thing that had ever happened to him walk out the door.

 

What he didn’t expect was Steve to scrunch his nose up adorably, like he was confused.

 

“But I’m coming with you, right?  Or would you rather I went back to the old house while you get settled back in LA?  I think Bucky’s gotten used to having his own room, though, and he might not appreciate having to share for a week or two.”

 

Tony tried to pick his jaw off the ground.  “You’re-you’re coming?  _With me?”_

 

 “Didn’t you figure that out?”

 

“No!”

 

“Oh, well, I’m coming with you.  If I’m allowed.”  Steve gave him the puppy-dog eyes from under his huge lashes.

 

“Of _course_ you’re allowed. But wait, you have a job here.”

 

The grip on Tony’s shoulders forced him to look up, at Steve in the eyes.  “Yeah, but it’s November.  Fire season’s over.  It’ll start back up again in the summer, and I _will_ be on call if anything does spike out of season.  In the off months we need to do brush cutting and work on other preventative measures, but that’s scheduled, and I won’t need to be here more than once a week.   For the next six months or so, I’m relatively free.”

 

“And you want to spend that time with me,” Tony said dully.

 

Steve laughed, loud and full of unfiltered _joy_ , before bringing his forehead down to rest on Tony’s.  “Tony, you are the most generous, thoughtful, _loving_ person I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.  You care so much for those people who are close to you, and I am so honored to be one of them.  Yes, you’re kind of eccentric, and yes, you don’t operate like a normal human being, but that just makes you all the more _you_.  I’ve felt happier in the past four months than in the rest of my life combined.  Why _wouldn’t_ I want to waste my free time with you?”

 

“You – you want to come?  With _me?”_

 

Steve grinned.  “I have been _coming_ with you for a while now.”

 

Tony buried his laughter in Steve’s chest, happiness leaking from every pore.  Steve, for some ungodly reason, wanted to be with _him_.  He wanted to follow Tony back to Malibu, back to responsibilities, back to the armor he had so carefully constructed around himself.  Back to the place that had never seen a time of extended happiness, only momentary pleasure.

 

Steve was crazy.

 

“You’re crazy,” Tony told him.  “And you have terrible taste.”

 

“No, I have _wonderful_ taste.  I like to try new things that others won’t try.  And guess what?  I _love_ what I’ve taken a chance on.  It’s everyone else that is missing out.”

 

“You’re the first to say so.”

 

“Well, their loss, my gain.”

 

He should have been terrified.  Tony Stark didn’t do commitment.  He actively avoided it because he always disappointed everyone he cared about in some way.

 

But standing there in the middle of the living room, Steve’s arm cocooning him and protecting him, Steve’s cheek pressed into his hair, Steve _there_ , solid and warm and present, Tony felt he could take on the world.

 

“No one’s paying you to do this?  Pepper didn’t offer you a salary to be my mistress?  No death threats?”

 

“No.  Well, Natasha told me she didn’t want to deal with the moping and pining that would come if I didn’t go with you.”

 

“Can’t make her mad.  She’s scary.”

 

 

 

“Ready?”  Steve was standing by the door of the Range Rover that Happy had brought to take them to Malibu, the worn brown leather of his artist satchel clashing horribly with the darker leather of his aviator jacket.  The rest of his clothes made him look like an army reject, plain white t-shirt that came in a pack of three, olive green cargo pants, battered hiking boots.  His smile was wide and his hair tousled.  He was gorgeous.

 

Tony glanced over his shoulder at the house where it had started.  The scent of burn wood still permeated the air, lighter now beneath the cloying scent of decaying plant life and sweet rain that was a characteristic of every fall.  It was moister now than in the summer, with dew starting to form in the mornings, and its refusal to dry made the detritus of fallen leaves rot all the faster.  There was a strong bite to the early-morning air.  Frost would begin to form in a few weeks.  There would be few brightly colored trees on the drive back, as many were little more than charred trunks at this point, and several of the access roads were shut down.

 

But in the spring, in amidst the blacked soot, small green and purple things would begin to grow.  In twenty years, it would be difficult to see that there had ever been a fire.

 

Tony wondered if in twenty years, he would still be coming up here.  Hell, maybe he’d be retired (not likely).  He wondered where Steve would be.

 

He took a deep breath and looked into Steve’s sky-colored eyes.  So full of promise.

 

“Ready.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’d love your comments on how I can improve! I promise I don’t bite. (At least, not through the computer.)


End file.
